


I Should Know Your Name

by oh_kathryn_my_captain



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, the one where 30 years is a long time and they don't recognize each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_kathryn_my_captain/pseuds/oh_kathryn_my_captain
Summary: Dimity and Ada finally get Hecate to come to a Quiz Cauldron at their local bar, but the night becomes less enjoyable when Hecate sees someone she could swear she's met before.





	1. The Way You Walked In

**Author's Note:**

> This plot is heavily inspired by "Know Your Name" by Mary Lambert. The music video is gay and amazing.

If anyone dared to accuse Hecate of ever stepping foot into a bar, they would be hexed. They would be right, but they would also be hexed. Nevertheless, she found herself walking through the threshold into a warmly lit room with sparse chatter filling her ears. Dimity laid a guiding hand on Hecate’s elbow and urged her forward, making her realize that she had hesitated in getting herself through the door completely. A quick glance and she could tell that this was not the place for her, even if it was “Quiz Cauldron” night.

“This was a fantastic idea, Ada,” Dimity said to the witch who was already taking a seat at a table next to the elevated platform equipped with a scoreboard and a microphone. “With HB on our team, we can’t possibly lose.”

Hecate grimaced at the taunting tone in her voice and the sideways smirk that followed. 

“Oh, relax, Hecate,” came Ada’s soft voice as Hecate and Dimity joined her. “I’m sure you’ll have fun if you loosen up a bit.”

It would always escape her why her colleagues insisted on finding new and improved ways of making her uncomfortable with each passing day. “Perhaps you are right, Ada. Excuse me,” she said, waving down a bartender. “Could I get a Somersby Cider, please.” The bartender nodded and went on her way.

“I think you’ll find the Quiz Cauldron to be rather charming. This could be your chance to show off a bit of your knowledge,” Ada said.

“Witches do not ‘show off,’” Hecate countered sharply, straightening up a bit.

The bartender arrived bearing Hecate’s cider and as she turned to accept the drink, she saw a flash of color in the corner of her eye. It appeared that another team had joined the competition. Four witches were now shedding their outer robes and hats as they made their way to a table, settling down a couple of tables behind Hecate’s company. They were all very beautiful, tasteful witches save for the garish colors they wore, but there was one witch who stood out above the other three.

She was wearing pink— _pink_. Of all the dastardly, shameful colors a witch could wear, she had to choose pink. The light pastels were a disgrace to the craft, but it was not just the outfit that caught Hecate’s attention. The woman’s face felt like a dream that she’d had before. In a way, she was familiar and not familiar at the same time. Hecate wanted nothing more than to hate her guts for her selfish need to occupy everyone’s attention with her loud clothing and mannerisms, but an ancient feeling was being reignited somewhere within Hecate’s core, making it impossible to tear her thoughts from the woman’s radiant smile and sparkling brown eyes. 

With a jolt, Hecate realized the woman caught her eye so she turned back around to look at the glass in her hand, ducking slightly in an effort to hide the heat that rose to her cheeks.

“Are you alright, Hecate?” asked Ada. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A ghost. Perhaps that’s what she was. A beautiful, pink ghost.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little more sternly than necessary.

“If you say so, I guess.”

The tapping of a microphone quieted the room and caught Hecate’s attention. A short witch with purple hair was standing on the platform with a pack of cards in her hand.

“Welcome and thank you for attending the Prism Nightclub Quiz Cauldron. The rules for tonight are simple: we will ask you questions on any subject from popular culture to potion-making and you will have to write down your team’s best guess on the Maglet provided. The team with the most answers right will win a £200 cash prize, but before we begin, please write the name of your team on your Maglet.”

Dimity, of course, snatched the Maglet from the center of the table before any discussion was held and a few seconds after she finished writing, the words “Morgan le Bae” appeared on the scoreboard, earning a glare from Hecate. 

“It’s not as though you had a better suggestion,” Dimity said. 

One by one, each row on the scoreboard was branded with a name that were just as bad, if not worse, than the name Dimity chose. There were the “Wicked Wiccans,” “Cold Brew,” “Taliswomen,” and “Syzygy Goats” just to name a few. 

“All right, I see we have some imaginative names. Let’s get started.” The purple-haired witch arranged her cards and began to read the first one. “For the first question: how many years did the witch hunts last in Europe? We are looking for a rounded number, nothing specific.”

“This,” said Hecate once her teammates looked to her for input, “is an insult to my intelligence.” She took the Maglet from Dimity, wrote her answer, and locked it in. 

After waiting for all of the answers, the announcer revealed them with a wave of her hand until the scoreboard displayed a column of numbers, most of which said “300.” 

“It looks like it’s a point to everyone except ‘Sabbata Cadabra.’” There were a few groans that mixed in with the roomful of cheers and Hecate once again caught the eye of the pink witch who was celebrating with her group.

“Okay, on to the next question…”

The announcer asked about topics ranging from the Great Wizard to the history of famous chanters, all of which Hecate knew the answers to. With each question, she suffered to notice that the group called “Cold Brew” was always tied with her own score. Given the amount of cheering and “high-pents” going on at that table, she hazarded a guess that the pink witch was the one whose smarts rivaled those of Hecate’s. 

Despite another perfectly tied score being shown on the board making her jaw clench, Hecate was still preoccupied with the blonde’s alluring laugh, complimenting her boisterous personality. If she allowed herself to be distracted now, she would have no chance, and she was beginning to think that witch knew it too. 

“Alright, this is the final question,” said the announcer. “Who was the first witch or wizard to propose the Modern Method?” 

Hecate grimaced. She had been a fool to think this young establishment would respect the noble traditions of the craft for one whole night. Of course they had to throw in a question about _modern_ witching. It was disgraceful and the worst part about it was that the colorful witches behind her had, no doubt, already written their answer. 

“HB? You got anything?” asked Dimity. 

She was almost ready to admit defeat when an image—a memory—appeared in her mind’s eye. It was a book, strewn haphazardly on the floor of her room at Amulet’s Academy. The book wasn’t hers; it had been left there by someone else—a friend she swore she would never mention the name of. On the spine of the book was the title, _Witchcraft and the Modern Era_ , written by–

“Eowyn P. Knox. The answer is Eowyn P. Knox.”

Ada looked a bit more shocked than she intended to convey. “I didn’t know you were interested in modern witching, Hecate.”

“I have no interest in it whatsoever,” she growled. 

Ada and Dimity exchanged a look of mild amusement between themselves as they input the answer on the Maglet. 

“Okay, and the answer is...Eowyn P. Knox. Congratulations to Morgan le Bae and Cold Brew, you are both tied for first which means you’ll be going on to the lightning round.”

Disappointed groups of witches grumbled as they made their way to the bar while, on Hecate’s table, a little golden bell appeared. 

“For the next three questions, when you have an answer, ring your bell and the first group to ring will be the first to attempt the question. Are you ready?”

The Cold Brew table gave a cheer and Dimity gave a clap, but Hecate grew uneasy with the pressure of beating her opponent weighing more than it should. 

“First question: what is the main ingredient in a wing-sprouting potion?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Hecate rang the bell and said, “Tail feather of a phoenix.”

“That is correct; one point for Morgan le Bae. Next question: what is Zachary Finnigan famous for?”

Hecate grimaced as the bell rang from the other table. 

“Chanting,” said a smooth, rich voice. 

“That is correct.”

Of course it was another modern witching question. No traditionalist would familiarize themselves with a wizard who had taken to chanting. 

“Final question…”

Hecate glanced at the witch who was costing her her pride only to find the woman looking just as intently back at her. She flinched and put her mind back on track. There was no way she would lose to a woman dressed in such a garish color. 

“What was the name of the first school dedicated to the study of magic?”

With a rush of adrenaline, Hecate rang the bell, now certain that she would win. “Dunbarron Institute of the Wiccan Arts,” she said. 

“I’m sorry, that’s incorrect,” replied the purple-haired announcer. “Cold Brew, would you like to hazard a guess?”

“Yes. We believe the answer is Dun _blane_ Institute of the Wiccan Arts.” 

“Congratulations, Cold Brew! You are the winners of tonight’s Quiz Cauldron! You can pick up your prizes from the bar; I’ll be with you shortly.”

Even though Hecate knew it was just a silly game, her heart sank. She couldn’t believe such an indecent group of people could outwit her. How could she have forgotten the answer to such a simple question?

“Don’t beat yourself up, HB. That was the closest we ever got to winning,” offered Dimity. “Well, no use in wasting a good trip to the bar.” With that, she set off to get a drink with Ada close behind.

This left Hecate alone with her half-empty bottle of cider. She avoided making eye contact with anyone and focused especially on not turning around to glance at the witch who beat her. It was concerning the amount of effort it took to ignore her obsessive thoughts about that witch and it seemed the more she tried to focus on her drink, the more those brown eyes kept intruding.

“Excuse me,” came that silky smooth voice.

Hecate was half-expecting to turn around and see that it had just been a figment of her imagination, but instead, she saw an onslaught of pink fabric and a beautiful smile of greeting.

“I just wanted to say that you played a brilliant game tonight.”

“Thank you,” said Hecate tonelessly.

“Do you mind if I buy you a drink?”

“I’ve already got one.”

Her intruder smiled and sighed. “Of course.” She made a motion to leave and Hecate almost let out the breath she’d been holding since their conversation began, but then the blonde stopped. “I’m Pippa. May I ask your name?”

Hecate bristled for a reason she didn’t understand until another image flashed into her mind. She was 13 years old and a girl wearing little pink ribbons in a messy bob approached her. _“You must be Hecate. Well met; I’m Phyllis Pentangle, but you can call me Pippa.”_

“C—Constance,” said Hecate after a mild panic. 

“Constance?” Pippa asked with her brows furrowed, almost as if she knew Hecate was lying. “Have we met before?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

It was all becoming too much for Hecate. It had been 30 years since they’d seen each other and Pippa was obviously doing just fine without her. Their lives would be better if they just forgot.

“Well, Miss Constance, since you’ve already got a drink, why don’t we meet tomorrow night instead?” 

“I’m afraid that won’t work.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

At precisely the wrong moment, Ada and Dimity decided to make an appearance.

“Miss Pentangle,” said Ada, giving a bow of greeting, “it’s always a pleasure to see you. I hate to cut our time short, but I’m sure Hecate is ready to leave.”

“Hecate…” said Pippa, shifting her gaze back to Hecate who could not meet her eyes.

“You ready to go, HB?” Dimity asked, but Hecate wasn’t listening. 

When she dared to look at Pippa, she was shocked to see Pippa’s face absolutely beaming. 

“Surely you can stay a little longer, Ada?”

The question made Ada feel almost as though she were intruding on something very private and dared not tread farther. “Yes, of course. Dimity, shall we head back to the bar?” 

Once Pippa was sure they were not eavesdropping, she began. “It’s been a long time... _Constance_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hecate wished this painful chat would end. She would much rather Pippa yell at her, hate her, and never speak to her again than to spend one more minute looking at her bright smile.

“Pippa…”

“Don’t you dare say a word, Hecate. I get my part first.”

She did as she was told.

“I’m incredibly happy to see you again, but I am also incredibly angry. The last words we ever spoke to each other were when we were little girls and now we see each other and you lie to me about your name? Why?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again after…” _after what I did to you._

“Isn’t that my decision to make?”

Of course she was right, but Hecate wasn’t going to admit it.

Pippa sighed and took the seat next to Hecate. “You know, despite what happened, you were the best friend I ever had. We did everything together and we rarely fought. When you left, I was so angry but I…” Her throat ran dry as she tried to finish. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you; I couldn’t let you go.”

Unsure of what to say or even if she should say anything, Hecate remained silent.

“If I had seen anyone else from academy in this bar tonight, I would’ve been out that door long ago.” She looked deep into Hecate’s eyes. “Do you want me to leave?”

Hecate slowly shook her head.

“Then, I believe it’s about time you told me your part of the story.”

Taking one last sip of her cider, Hecate took a deep breath and thought back to the night she swore she would abandon in the recesses of her memory.

“You—you remember Ursula Hallow, I presume.” Pippa nodded. “Well, she had discovered something...about me and threatened she would tell the whole school.”

“What was it?”

“She knew that I was gay.”

A look of understanding washed over Pippa’s features, prompting Hecate to continue.

“About a week before the broomstick display, she found a letter that I had written to a witch I fancied. Ursula said she was going to show the note to her, so I ran to find you...to ask for help.”

Pippa thought back to the night in question, but she didn’t remember ever having such a conversation with Hecate.

“But you were with...Nathaniel Stutes.”

A rush of memories came back to Pippa. Nathaniel was a wizard who had often asked to court Pippa, but she had always refused. The night before the broomstick display, Nathaniel had tried to kiss her…

“Oh, Hecate. You don’t mean you saw—”

“The kiss? Yes, I saw it.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,” said Pippa, clasping her hand around Hecate’s, but the other witch shook her head.

“It wasn’t that.”

Pippa cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

The conversation was now delving into feelings Hecate wasn’t sure she could manage. One long, shaky breath later, she tried to mumble out her response. “I wasn’t angry that you weren’t there to help, I was angry that you had kissed that boy.”

Long-forgotten pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. “That letter—to the witch you fancied—that was for me,” Pippa said, not even bothering to ask a question with an answer so obvious.

“Yes.”

“Hecate, I didn’t like Nathaniel. He was incredibly persistent and right after that kiss ended, I told him that I was in love with somebody else.” She brought her other hand up to brush Hecate’s cheek. “I was in love with you.”

Eyes watering, Hecate said the only words that came to her: “I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing. I should have told you.”

“I left, Pippa; I didn’t give you a chance to tell me.”

“It looks like there’s enough blame for the both of us. 30 years...hating each other. The real question is, Hiccup—what are we going to do about it?”

By the look in her eyes, Pippa already had plenty of her own ideas, but Hecate was saved from answering the question when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Is everything all right over here?” said Ada.

“Yes, although it is getting late,” Pippa answered. Turning back to Hecate, she said, “I know you said you couldn’t get a drink tomorrow, but I was hoping you might reconsider.”

Despite the voice telling Hecate to stay at the bar until close, talking to Pippa about everything they had missed in each other’s lives, she knew that there was no way they could make up for 30 years in one night. It would be a slow process, but it would be worth it. 

“I might be more inclined to a proper meal,” she said.

“Dinner it is.”

Pippa stood up and gave Hecate’s arm one last squeeze before finding her party of brightly-dressed witches and walking out the door.

“Did I miss something?” asked Dimity.

The last thing Hecate wanted to do was talk about her complicated history with Pippa Pentangle, with Dimity no less. “I’d like to go home now,” she said.

Ada nodded. “I think we all would.”

When Hecate found the sanctity of her own room half an hour later, she found that she couldn’t sleep. Despite her exhaustion from staying up late, her thoughts continued to drift back to Pippa. After so long trying to forget they’d ever met, she was going to have dinner with the witch of her dreams. Her heart fluttering and her mind racing, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.


End file.
